


Of Siblings and Scarves

by leinthalexandra, starshade



Series: We Shield Each Other [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leinthalexandra/pseuds/leinthalexandra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshade/pseuds/starshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin works far too hard, everyone knows it. Frerin offers distraction, and a way for him to relax and endeavors to demonstrate exactly how creative he and Dís can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Siblings and Scarves

**Author's Note:**

> This could also be titled "Thorin Loses His Brain Somewhere Halfway Through, if Found Please Return to Erebor". Another bit of shameless porn from our threesome 'verse.

Frerin has been working just about all day--he's barely had a break in the seemingly endless amount of paperwork that his father seems to always have for him to do. Whether it's going over accounts or double-checking numbers on current mining productions, and everything in between, Frerin suspects it's simply another way that his father is using to keep him out of trouble.

 

Well. He thinks that he's worked hard enough for one day to deserve a much-needed break. It's after dinner, anyway, and thinks that to be as good a time as any to call an end to the work day. He makes his way back to the large connected apartments that he, Thorin, and Dis share between them--ostensibly each of them has their own chambers, but they tend to move together between each of their apartments.

 

It's not unusual for unwed siblings to have a similar set-up of their living quarters, and it works particularly well in their case due to their...arrangement. Now that Thorin has finally joined them, there's hardly any need for secrecy between all three siblings, which Frerin is extremely grateful for.

 

He enters Thorin's chambers, not surprised to see his elder brother hard at work in his chair, looking over paperwork of his own. Likely it has to do with the guard or something equally tedious. Frerin doesn't particularly care; they have better things that they could be doing, namely each other. (Thorin always turns red at such talk and gives Frerin an appalled look. Frerin thinks it's rather endearing, if a bit ridiculous.)

 

Coming up behind Thorin, Frerin leans down and rests his arms over his brother's shoulders. "Still hard at work this late? Isn't that a bit much, even for you?"

 

Thorin looks up at his brother for a moment, and gives his arm a quick squeeze in greeting before he goes back to paying attention to his work. Reports from their scouting parties and a few from the city guard about disturbances in the markets...nothing exciting, but as the head of the guard he has to read through all of them. He’d put it off for most of the day, dreading the headache that reading through so much text was going to give him. The one he's currently reading through, for example, had been written in improbably tiny script, and messy as well, making it hard to decipher.

 

"I need to finish these before I can sleep," he says. "So yes."

 

He shrugs, trying to knock Frerin's arms from his shoulders, and only succeeds in making Frerin settle further against him.

 

"Don't you have work of your own to be doing?"

 

He tries not to pay any more attention to Frerin than is necessary; he knows his brother, and knows that if he's here, asking about Thorin's work, then he has some sort of mischief planned. Though Dís' absence does give him some hope that perhaps he's wrong about Frerin's intentions...

 

"Already done for the day," Frerin says cheerfully. He presses his cheek against Thorin's and rubs his nose against him. "It's late, Thorin. All of that will keep until tomorrow. You work far too hard." He wraps his arms entirely around Thorin's shoulders and pulls him back a little, which drags the chair along with him.

 

"What you need is a break. Some time where you can just relax. You don't have near enough of that. It's not good for you, you know." He knows Thorin all too well; if he isn't told to stop working then he'll keep at it all the way into the night.

 

Thorin determinedly keeps his eyes on his papers, despite the urge to lean into Frerin's touch. He had resisted his siblings for years; he could resist Frerin for however long it took him to get through these damned reports. "What I need is to concentrate," he says. He feels Frerin's lips on his jaw, and he shrugs again. "Stop it."

 

His protest sounds half-hearted even to him, but he really does need to finish this. "Go bother Dís, she'll indulge you." Or more likely Frerin would recruit her into helping him distract Thorin from his work, but at least Thorin might make it through a few more pages while Frerin went in search of their sister. Frerin, however, doesn't seem keen on leaving him be.

 

"Dís," Frerin says, moving his lips up along Thorin's ear and biting it gently, "isn't _here_. You are." He grins when he feels Thorin press back against him slightly. "Brother, I think what you _really_ need to put those down and take some time to relax." He brushes his thumb along Thorin's collarbone, which is only just exposed by the loose-fitting tunic he wears. And if it so happens that he pushes it a little further down, well...that's certainly not _Frerin's_ fault.

 

"Frerin, I need to finish--" A shiver runs up Thorin's spine and he struggles against the urge to simply throw the papers in his hands aside and be done with them. It's not as though Frerin is going to _stop_ , and Thorin... doesn't particularly want him to.

 

But he is nothing if not stubborn, so he closes his eyes, takes a steadying breath, and at least tries to read the last few lines of the page he's on.

 

Which is no easy thing when Frerin's fingers play over his chest, under his tunic, and his teeth keep worrying at Thorin's ear and the hinge of his jaw. "I should have wished harder for you to be stolen by goblins as a child," Thorin growls, as he drops the stack of papers on his writing desk. He turns his head, feeling Frerin chuckle against his ear, and reaches up to tangle his hand in his brother's hair. "You never give me a moment's peace."

 

"Be honest, brother, you wouldn't want me any other way," Frerin chuckles. He leans over and tilts Thorin's head back when Thorin's hand comes up to tangle in his hair, then kisses him fully. It's difficult from this angle, but it's not as though he particularly cares--they won't be here for long anyway.

 

After a moment he pulls back and comes around to the side, grabbing at Thorin's hand and tugging him out of his chair. As soon as Thorin is standing Frerin wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in so that their mouths meet, teeth clacking together from the force of it. A short rush of heat runs through Frerin at his small victory and he smiles against Thorin's lips. Frerin runs his tongue along Thorin's lower lip, and Thorin parts his lips so that Frerin can push further into his mouth.

 

His free hand is around Thorin's waist and he spins them around so that Thorin is pressed up against his desk; Frerin lets go and braces himself as he looms over his brother. So much for Thorin being in charge, he thinks to himself, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

 

"Glad to see you've at least come to your senses, brother," he says, leaning in close to murmur the words in Thorin's ear.

 

"Or I've abandoned them completely," Thorin mutters back, even as he shoves back against the desk until he's braced against it enough that he can hook one leg around Frerin and crush them together. At least he isn't likely to regret putting his work aside for the evening.

 

He turns his head to catch Frerin's mouth again, kissing the smile from his lips. He tugs Frerin's tunic out of his belt, and slips his hands under the hem, wanting to feel skin, and the catch of coarse hair on his calloused fingers. "You're finishing those reports for me," he says, as he bites at Frerin's bottom lip and drags his thumbs over the sharp angle of his hips.

 

"We'll see," says Frerin. His trousers are growing tight as Thorin's hand moves down, hisses when Thorin avoids the very spot where Frerin wants him to be. He pushes Thorin's tunic up and trails his fingers along his sides. Frerin shoves forward so that his hardness is pressed up against Thorin's own; he grabs Thorin's knee and lifts it up, needing to be closer.

 

He uses his free hand to maneuver his brother until Thorin is lying flat on his back on the desk, then reaches down between them until he finally gets Thorin's hand on his cock. Frerin shudders with pleasure as it rushes through his entire body in small waves; he doesn't care about going slow right now, just needs this _now_ and needs his brother _now_.

 

In an instant he bends over Thorin and holds down his free hand, tracing and teasing with the other along the outside of Thorin's trousers, pressing himself and Thorin's own hand against his brother's thigh so that Thorin has no choice but to keep moving. He kisses Thorin hard and rough, barely giving either of them time to breathe. The heat and ache are almost too much, and--

 

"Well, now I'm hurt. You two started without me."

 

Thorin groans into his brother's mouth when they're pressed together, arches off the desk into his touch. He hears the papers underneath him rustling and crumpling and can't even be bothered to care that he'll have to work to smooth them out later. He tightens the leg he has hooked 'round Frerin as he shifts his hips up against his own hand, and Frerin.

 

Then he hears Dís' voice, and when he turns his head away from Frerin, his chest heaving, he sees their sister standing in the doorway with one eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip.

 

Frerin straightens, but when Thorin tries to sit up, he shoves him back down against the desk. "Dís, lovely of you to join us," says Frerin, managing a cheeky smile, even through his own harsh breathing. "I was getting Thorin to relax."

 

Thorin glares up at him, and starts to growl out some protest when Frerin rocks his hips forward and the words are cut off by a moan and Thorin's head knocks back against the desk.

 

Dís walks toward them with an amused grin, using her hands to exaggerate the swing of her hips. "Looks more like you're trying to rile him up, Frerin." She grasps his chin when she comes close enough and kisses him hard. "And you're going to ruin that desk if you aren't careful."  
  
Thorin watches as Dís approaches them, his gaze following the sway of her hips and he tries to reach out for her, take her hand and pull her to him, but Frerin grabs his hand and keeps it away. Thorin growls at him, but Frerin pays him no mind. Thorin shifts his hips, squeezes at Frerin with his leg; his brother had gone and done his riling, and now does nothing about it.

 

"Oh, you're no fun," Frerin says. Dís snorts and looks down at Thorin, who's already red-faced and taking shallow breaths. If Frerin isn't careful, Dís doesn't think Thorin will last very long.

 

" _Frerin_ ," Thorin hisses. He aches, needs some sort of relief and neither of them are giving him any.

 

Frerin only laughs, "You're right, sister. It was riling, but riling is more fun." He steps away then, and drags Thorin up as he goes. Frerin glances down at his own hand wrapped tight around Thorin's wrist, and Thorin shudders at the slow smirk that spreads over his features as he looks back to Dís. "Dís, do you remember the night I came back from that trip to Greenwood? Do you still have the scarves?"

 

A small shudder and a rush of heat runs through Dís as she bites her lower lip and grins. "I certainly do," she says, voice low. "Wait for me in the bedroom, I'll be right back." Before she goes, she pulls Thorin to her and gives him a hard kiss, the same as she'd done to Frerin, before pulling away. With a wink she walks off--trying not to run--to her own chambers, rushing into her own bedroom and rummaging through the trunk at the foot of her bed. She pulls out several dark-colored scarves made of incredibly light material, yet strong enough that they wouldn't tear apart even when pulled at hard (as she and Frerin had learned on several occasions).

 

Just as she's about to leave, she stops and realizes that she probably ought to undress--at least most of the way--so she undoes the laces of her bodice and practically throws it to the ground before she pulls her dress over her head. Her breast bindings she leaves on for now, and her chemise, but she finds one of her brothers' shirts on the chair nearby--who's it is, she isn't certain--and tugs it on quickly before she grabs the scarves and runs back to Thorin's chambers.

 

As she flings open the door to the bedroom, Dís sees that Frerin has already made quite a bit of progress on divesting their elder brother of his clothes; Thorin's tunic has been stripped off and his trousers are halfway down his legs. He's bracing himself against the bed, head hanging down while Frerin stands pressed up behind him, one hand on Thorin's cock and the other around his waist, rolling his hips against Thorin's ass. She can hear Frerin murmuring something in Thorin's ear; Dís isn't sure what he's saying, but it's dragging small, strangled noises from Thorin and Dís has to press the heel of her palm between her legs at the sight of them. She takes a deep, shaky breath and moves toward them, since they seem completely oblivious to her return.

 

* * *

  
  


Frerin freely admits to being an impatient man, and thus he can't resist dragging Thorin's tunic over his head as he pulls his brother towards the bedroom. They stumble most of the way, mouths sealed together in a hard kiss, and Frerin fumbles with the laces of Thorin's trousers. "Fortunate for me you don't choose to do your paperwork in all that armor, brother," Frerin says, smirking at his good luck.

 

"Shut up," Thorin mumbles back, pulling at Frerin's braids. His brother is an incorrigible tease, and surprisingly commanding when they're like this, growling out orders and directing things as he likes, and Thorin is content to let him, and Dís, take control. Least ways when Frerin doesn't get smug about it.

 

"Don't think I will," says Frerin, shoving Thorin into his room. Thorin nearly stumbles, but Frerin moves fast enough to catch his arm and keep him up. He drags Thorin to him by his beard and kisses him, rough and deep.

 

Then he's shoving Thorin's trousers down his hips and forcing him 'round to face the bed. "Dis won't be ha- _ahh_!" Frerin's hand on his cock effectively silences him, and he can't help the stuttering thrust into his brother's grip.

 

" _Dís_ will appreciate the sight," says Frerin, and he pulls Thorin back flush against him with his free hand, rutting against him in time with the strokes of his hand. He knows by now how to pace himself to keep from letting Thorin reach his end too soon... "Just as she'll appreciate what we're going to do to you. She's had me bound and at her mercy, just as I've had her... She's a beautiful sight, brother, as we'll show you, one day. But tonight...tonight you're _ours_ to do with as we like." He drags his teeth over the tender flesh under Thorin's ear, every whimper and strangled groan he pulls from his brother's lips only spurring him on. "If I have my way, you won't walk properly for a _week_ , but I'll settle for you not remembering how to speak. I think I'll watch as she toys with you, since I've had some of my fun... She has a talent for it, you'll see. Such clever fingers on her, and you remember how well she does with her mouth..."

 

Frerin only relents when he sees Dís out of the corner of his eye, and he steps away from Thorin, ignoring his protests.

 

Thorin's legs shake and he's starting to get rather irritated with being brought _so close_ only to be left again. He can't really do anything but fall forward when Frerin pushes him. He kicks the rest of the way out of his trousers and rolls over to prop himself up on his elbows on the mattress. He looks at both of his siblings, mouth going dry at the hard line of Frerin's cock through his unlaced trousers, and Dís' hand still between her legs.

 

"Your choice on how you want him, little sister," says Frerin, with a wicked grin thrown in Thorin's direction. "It's only fair, since we started without you."

 

Dís grins as she holds the scarves with one end in each hand; she drags them slowly across her lips and walks forward, noticing how her brothers' gazes follow the movement. "I think I want him...on his back with his hands tied together, pressed back to where we can see every single inch of him..." She gives them both a wicked grin. Frerin knows exactly how she likes it, but it's clear he wants Thorin to hear it all. "I want you to tie him up, brother--you know what I like."

 

She hangs onto the end post of the bed as she hands Frerin the scarves; Thorin seems frozen in place, only moving when Frerin adjusts his limbs. His gaze locks onto hers and Dís slowly smiles at him; she can see his breath hitch and her grin only gets wider.

 

Frerin pulls Thorin's arms where he, or rather, Dís, wants them. "Do tell me if this is too tight," he says, grinning down at his brother as he ties one of the scarves around Thorin's wrists quickly, and with practiced ease.

 

Thorin's breath catches, but he offers no complaint about the constriction. The pressure on his wrists is foreign but not unpleasant, and he groans when Frerin pushes his arms down into the mattress and puts his knees on either side of them, to lean over Thorin and look down at him, his golden hair falling over his shoulders to to tickle along Thorin's stretched arms. Frerin ducks down the rest of the way, to kiss Thorin once, upside down, as he runs his hands along Thorin's arms, to his chest, and down his stomach.

 

He retraces the path backwards, digging his blunt nails into Thorin's skin as he goes. Thorin gasps and presses up into the touch, and would really rather Frerin's touch wander further down, but too quickly Frerin pulls his hands away and sits back to look at Dís.

 

"Anything else you would have me do to him, my lady?" he asks, and Thorin follows his gaze to where Dís is leaned against the bedpost. Frerin drags the remaining scarf over Thorin's chest, and the featherlight brush of it is something of a torture.

 

"I'm going to strangle both of you," Thorin mutters, his voice rough. He doesn't care whether they hear him.

 

Dís laughs at Thorin's words. "You should tie one over his mouth, too," she tells Frerin. As he moves to do so, Dís slowly pulls off the large tunic she'd been wearing over her chemise. Then with a teasing smile at Thorin, she removes that as well before slowly unwrapping the bindings over her breasts. Dís lets most of her hair down and lets the long dark waves fall around her shoulders, with only a few particular braids hanging down to frame her face, as well as the hidden ones at the nape of her neck.

 

She climbs onto the bed and traces her fingers up Thorin's leg all the way to his inner thigh, a feather-light touch that has him trembling under her fingertips. With a smile she leans down, moving up along his skin with tiny licks and nips with her teeth and tongue. Deliberately avoiding his cock, Dís continues up the crease between his hip and thigh; from nearby she hears Frerin's chuckle, and she can't help but smile against Thorin's skin as she begins to trail light kisses along his lower stomach.

 

It sends a shiver and a thrill up her own spine, seeing the way he reacts to her touch, and she can't help it: she likes to tease, to drag it all out until her partner can't take it anymore. As she moves across she goes back down the opposite way that she had done on the other side; then she glances up at Thorin, whose eyes are clenched shut and his bound arms are trembling.

 

"Oh, don't worry, brother," Dís says in a low voice. "We're only getting started." And then she bends back down and takes his cock into her mouth without warning, sucking hard and relishing the muffled cry Thorin gives behind the cloth over his mouth. Dís hums around him and pulls Thorin's knees up, then runs her fingertips up and down the backs of his thighs, moving further in each direction every time. With barely a moment of hesitation Dís takes as much of him into her mouth as she can and drags her lips slowly back up towards the tip before pulling off and licking at the end. Thorin's hips jerk up and she's glad that she'd moved away in time.

 

She moves up to cover his body with her own, dragging her tongue across his mouth over the material covering it. Dís straddles his hips; her skin feels like it's vibrating, burning hotter than the fires of a blacksmith's forge, and it grows even more as she grinds her hips down, his cock aligned in just the right way against her sex so that a heady wave of desire washes over her. She does it again, and again, working a hand between them so that she can trail her fingers along his length as her hips move hard against his. Every so often she presses her fingers against herself, pleasure nearly overtaking her as well as Thorin. But she doesn't want to lose control, not yet. Right now she wants to play and tease and drag this out until Thorin can't take anymore.

 

  
"Careful, Dís," says Frerin, and Thorin almost hates him for being able to sound like he's reminding Dís to adjust her aim with her bow. "Don't want to let him get there too quickly."  
  


Dís slows her pace somewhat and squeezes at the base of Thorin's cock; she doesn't want Thorin to come too quickly, either. The sight of him, though...all spread out in front of her like this, it's hard to resist pushing a bit further than she ought to.

 

 

Thorin can't even work up a frustrated growl at that--he tries, but a rock of Dís' hips turns it into a muffled whine, and he bites down on the material in his mouth, clenching his fingers as tightly as he can as his back arches off the mattress. His arms tremble and ache from the strain, and the dull throb grounds him, gives him something to focus on besides the maddening, dizzying burn that builds with every subtle shift of Dís' body against his. He wants to curse at both of his siblings, or cry out, but the damned scarf tied around his mouth keeps him silent, save for the muffled groans and his harsh ragged breathing.

 

  
Frerin rises up on his knees, over his siblings, and shoves his trousers down his legs, hisses at the drag of the fabric against his cock. He moves away from Dís and Thorin only long enough to get out of the garment, throws them aside with no care as to where they land, and then he's back at the head of the bed, looking down at his brother and sister. He takes himself in hand, and rubs his thumb over the head, easing the ache some with slow, lazy strokes, as he watches. He hadn't thought, before them, of the appeal of simply watching, but with Dis and Thorin it could be, and has been all he needs... Tonight, though, that isn't all he wants, thus the slow, easy pace of his hand. Once Dís has had her fun, it's his turn.

 

 

Still, he can't resist leaning over Thorin and tipping Dís' chin up to kiss her, running his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens for him and he can taste her, Thorin’s bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.   
  


 

Dís kisses back when Frerin comes closer, and she feels a shiver when she realizes that Frerin can taste their brother on her tongue. His lips linger against hers when he breaks their kiss; Dis loves the sounds that Thorin makes behind the scarf tied tight across his mouth, and although she'd like to hear them full and raw and loud, just imagining it makes the heat pool low in her belly.   
  


 

When Frerin pulls away, he leans back, tangles his hand in Thorin's hair and pulls slightly, something he's found Thorin likes, and is rewarded with Thorin's eyes slamming shut as he tips his head back baring his throat. It's far too tempting an invitation for Frerin not to duck down and bite at his neck, sealing his mouth over the skin, sucking at it, smirking when he feels Thorin swallow hard under his lips.

 

 

Dís can feel herself growing wet between her legs and, after one last, long roll of her hips, she sits up on her knees, moving out of the way. "I think it's time you had your _real_ fun, brother mine," she says to Frerin. She tugs him away from Thorin by his braids and pulls him into a hard, fierce kiss. "He looks lovely, doesn't he?" she murmurs against his lips, and she knows that Thorin can hear her. "All laid out like that for us?" Dís glances over at Thorin with a heated gaze, biting her lower lip as the dizzying wash of pleasure comes over her at the sight of him. She can't help touching herself again, but only rubs her fingers against her sex once or twice. Dís doesn't want to finish too early, either.

 

Thorin breathes hard, watching his siblings, his lungs burning from not being able to draw in nearly enough air. Dís words make him shudder, and as maddening as having her on him had been, her gaze--and Frerin's--is worse, and he wants to move closer to both of them, to _make_ them touch him, to finally bring him over the edge and ease the ache that's beginning to border on being unbearable, but his bonds stop him. His head is muddled, left with nothing but the lust and the pounding of his own blood in his ears, and all he can manage is a muffled, imploring noise against the gag.

 

Frerin doesn't immediately set after Thorin; he leans in to Dís first, placing a line of lingering kisses from her shoulder up the curve of her neck as he drags his fingers up and down her thigh. "He does," he says. "Absolutely beautiful. Both of you are." He kisses her once more before he turns his attention to his brother, and with a wolfish grin he moves until he can settle between Thorin's legs.

 

Thorin looks down at him, and the sight of his glazed eyes, and his pupils blown wide makes Frerin grin all the wider as he shoves Thorin's legs further apart. Without warning or preamble he licks a stripe up Thorin's cock from base to tip, Thorin bucking his hips up and all but whimpering in response. Frerin still grins at him. "I can taste her on you, brother," he says, his breath making Thorin jerk under him. Another lick before he takes Thorin completely in his mouth for a moment, sucking once before he pulls back off, and gets another whine from Thorin.  
  


 

Dís watches the two of them together, her lips parting and her breaths coming in ragged pants. Frerin's mouth on their brother, where she'd only just been; the sounds that make it past the cloth tied around Thorin's mouth, every single whimper and groan and cry...she grinds the heel of her palm hard against herself, parting her legs and letting out a quiet moan.

 

 

"You, and Dís, mixed together, as you should be..." He glances at Dís out of the corner of his eye, and starts to make his way up Thorin's body, kissing, biting, and dragging blunt nails over flushed, sweat-slick skin.   
  


 

Frerin looms over him, and Thorin can hardly _see_ through the haze, but Thorin doesn't need to see to know the look Frerin is wearing as he pulls the scarf from Thorin's mouth, down to his chin. He doesn't bother trying to say anything, even with the freedom to do so. A hand curls into his damp hair, and Frerin pulls his head up. He traces his tongue over Thorin's bottom lip before he says, "Have a taste." And then Frerin's mouth is on his, and Thorin can taste the bitterness on his tongue. He groans, using what strength he has left to strain against his bonds to chase after Frerin when he starts to pull away. But Frerin uses the hold on his hair to force him back down, and then the scarf is back in place, so that if Thorin had been able to get out any form of protest, it would have been silenced anyway.

 

He feels beyond drunk, beyond exhausted, and yet still alight and burning with energy, a contradiction that in itself is exhausting, and everything after becomes nothing but a dizzying haze of Frerin's mouth and hands everywhere, and Thorin's ever-weaker noises continuing to be muffled by the gag.

 

Then Frerin's hands are on his hips, lifting him up slightly. Thorin's legs shake even as he tries to brace himself with his feet out of reflex. He has no trouble bracing himself and arching up when a slick finger barely presses into him, and he is torn between dragging himself away from Frerin using the scarf around his hands, because this is all _too much_ , or pressing down, urging Frerin deeper, because he needs something, anything...

 

Frerin makes the decision for him, holding him in place, pressing just a little bit harder...

 

Even the gag can't muffle Thorin's near scream that turns into a sob of relief as he comes, painting his own stomach and chest with thick stripes as he simultaneously tries to arch his back and curl in on himself, every inch of him seeming pulled in every direction at once. For a moment, his vision, his mind, everything goes blank, and when he comes back to himself, all of him is still buzzing, still alight, but he cannot so much as lift a finger, aside from the occasional involuntary twitch as he lies there, hardly able to breathe or see.

 

Dís can't pull her gaze away from Frerin as presses inside of Thorin, knows exactly how those clever fingers feel inside; hears Frerin's words and Thorin's sobs and shouts and _oh_...

 

At the sight of him, the sight of Thorin's face as he comes, the gorgeous strangled sound that Frerin has dragged from their brother, Dís has to shove her hips forward to meet her own hand, needing more, harder and faster. She pushes a finger inside of herself and knows just where to hit that spot that will send her over the edge.

 

When she finally comes it's a welcome relief; the pleasure consumes her and she clutches tightly at the sheets, her breath coming in broken, ragged pants as her head hangs down and she keeps going until she's wrung out every possible moment of her release that she can. Dís slowly pulls her hand away, breathing hard and bracing herself, barely able to keep herself upright. She's exhausted and every part of her is still so sensitized that she doesn't want to move for at least several long moments.

 

Thorin, it seems, is even more wrung out than she is.

 

Frerin takes in the sight of both of his siblings coming undone, the sounds they make winding him tight, but not quite enough to snap. He lets Thorin down, and moves to fit their hips together. He only feels slightly bad about the way Thorin's feet scrabble against the sheets when Frerin grinds down against him, his own hard cock sliding along Thorin's, drawing broken, desperate noises from his brother.

 

Between the noises the over-stimulation drags from Thorin, and the sight of Dís, her chest still heaving, and her hair falling over her shoulders to frame her face, Frerin doesn't last much longer after that, a shouted, guttural curse in Khuzdul tearing from his throat as the tension in him finally reaches a breaking point and he comes over Thorin's stomach, his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself up through it, the fire rushing through him sapping him of any energy or strength he may have had left.

 

He hovers over Thorin for a long while, panting and shaking, hair sticking to his face from sweat. He wants to fall forward, and simply sleep atop his brother. Instead he slowly, and with some amount of difficulty, drags himself away, and up to release Thorin's hands and pull the scarf from his mouth. Thorin hardly moves when he does, eyes unfocused and half closed, his mouth slack.

 

"We broke him," Frerin mumbles in Dís' general direction. Thorin only grunts at him, and Frerin's not sure if it's even in response to what he'd said or not. Frerin massages his upper arm for a moment before he leans over the edge of the bed--and nearly falls off flat on his face--to grab a discarded shirt. He cares little for whose it is, only that it will serve to at least clean them all off enough that they can sleep comfortably. Baths will be for in the morning.

 

Dís gives a huff of laughter, but she's so exhausted that she lies face down on the pillow next to Thorin; she looks over at him and gently brushes a strand of hair from his eyes. Mahal knows how much she loves the two of them, and she doesn't think she's ever been happier.

  
Frerin sits back up and helps to clean himself and Thorin off while Dís watches them with half-lidded eyes. Thorin is nearly asleep as it is and Dís is not far behind. Frerin lies down on her other side, and he moves so close to them both that Dís feels as though she can barely move. But she doesn’t mind.

  
  
Thorin manages to clumsily throw an arm over his siblings as Frerin settles against Dís, but that is all he can do before his eyes fall shut and don’t open again. Frerin stays awake a while after his brother and sister have succumbed to exhaustion, twisting their hair around his fingers in turn, watching them. In her sleep, Dís has grabbed Thorin’s hand and Frerin smiles sleepily at the sight. His eyes feel heavy, and he should sleep, but he enjoys the quiet, after, when he can take in both of them, his big brother and little sister.

  
  
Finally, he joins his hand with theirs and settles back to let their combined, even breathing lull him into sleep.


End file.
